We have become a nation of women.
It wasn’t always this way, of course. There was a time when men put their signatures to a document, knowing full well that this single act would result in their execution if captured, and in the forfeiture of their property to the State. Their wives and children would be turned out by the soldiers, and their farms and businesses most probably given to someone who didn’t sign the document.
There was a time when men went to their certain death, with expressions like “You all can go to hell. I’m going to Texas.” (Davy Crockett, to the House of Representatives, before going to the Alamo.)
There was a time when men went to war, sometimes against their own families, so that other men could be free. And there was a time when men went to war because we recognized evil when we saw it, and knew that it had to be stamped out.
There was even a time when a President of the United States threatened to punch a man in the face and kick him in the balls, because the man had the temerity to say bad things about the President’s daughter’s singing.
We’re not like that anymore.
Now, little boys in grade school are suspended for playing cowboys and Indians, cops and crooks, and all the other familiar variations of “good guy vs. bad guy” that helped them learn, at an early age, what it was like to have decent men hunt you down, because you were a lawbreaker.
Now, men are taught that violence is bad—that when a thief breaks into your house, or threatens you in the street, that the proper way to deal with this is to “give him what he wants”, instead of taking a horsewhip to the rascal or shooting him dead where he stands.
Now, men’s fashion includes not a man dressed in a three-piece suit, but a tight sweater worn by a man with breasts.
Now, warning labels are indelibly etched into gun barrels, as though men have somehow forgotten that guns are dangerous things.
Now, men are given Ritalin as little boys, so that their natural aggressiveness, curiosity and restlessness can be controlled, instead of nurtured and directed.
And finally, our President, who happens to have been a qualified fighter pilot, lands on an aircraft carrier wearing a flight suit, and is immediately dismissed with words like “swaggering”, “macho” and the favorite epithet of Euro girly-men, “cowboy”. Of course he was bound to get that reaction—and most especially from the Press in Europe, because the process of male pussification Over There is almost complete.
How did we get to this?
In the 1950s, the TV Dad was seen as the lovable goofball—perhaps the beginning of the trend—BUT he was still the one who brought home the bacon, and was the main source of discipline (think of the line: “Wait until your father gets home!").
From that, we went to this: the Cheerios TV ad.
Now, for those who haven’t seen this piece of sh*t, I’m going to go over it, from memory, because it epitomizes everything I hate about the campaign to pussify men. The scene opens at the morning breakfast table, where the two kids are sitting with Dad at the table, while Mom prepares stuff on the kitchen counter. The dialogue goes something like this:
Little girl (note, not little boy): Daddy, why do we eat Cheerios?
Dad: Because they contain fiber, and all sorts of stuff that’s good for the heart. I eat it now, because of that.
LG: Did you always eat stuff that was bad for your heart, Daddy?
Dad (humorously): I did, until I met your mother.
Mother (not humorously): Daddy did a lot of stupid things before he met your mother.
Now, every time I see that TV ad, I have to be restrained from shooting the TV with a .45 Colt. If you want a microcosm of how men have become less than men, this is the perfect example.
When I first started this website, I think my primary aim was to blow off steam at the stupidity of our society.
Because I have fairly set views on what constitutes right and wrong, I have no difficulty in calling Bill Clinton, for example, a f*cking liar and hypocrite.
But most of all, I do this website because I love being a man. Amongst other things, I talk about guns, self-defense, politics, beautiful women, sports, warfare, hunting, and power tools—all the things that being a man entails. All this stuff gives me pleasure.
And it doesn’t take much to see when all the things I love are being threatened: for instance, when Tim Allen’s excellent comedy routine on being a man is reduced to a f*cking sitcom called Home Improvement. The show should have been called Man Improvement, because that’s what every single plotline entailed: turning a man into a “better” person, instead of just leaving him alone to work on restoring the vintage sports car in his garage. I stopped watching the show after about four episodes.
Real men ... have big f*cking mean-*ss dogs: Rhodesian ridgebacks, bull terriers and Rottweilers, or else working dogs like pointers or retrievers which go hunting with them and slobber all over the furniture.
Women own lapdogs.
Out there, there is a huge number of men who are sick of it. We’re sick of being made figures of fun and ridicule; we’re sick of having girly-men like journalists, advertising agency execs and movie stars decide on “what is a man”; we’re sick of women treating us like children, and we’re really f*cking sick of girly-men politicians who pander to women by passing an ever-increasing raft of Nanny laws and regulations (the legal equivalent of public-school Ritalin), which prevent us from hunting, racing our cars and motorcycles, smoking, flirting with women at the office, getting into fistfights over women, shooting criminals and doing all the fine things which being a man entails.
I don’t see why men should have become feminized, except that we allowed it to happen—and you know why we let it happen? Because it’s godd*mned easier to do so. Unfortunately, we’ve allowed it to go too far, and our maleness has become too pussified for words.
At this point, I could have gone two ways: the first would be to say, “...and I don’t know if we’ll get it back. The process has become too entrenched, the cultural zeitgeist of men as girls has become part of the social fabric, and there’s not much we can do about it.”
But I’m not going to do that. To quote John Belushi (who was, incidentally, a real man and not a f*cking woman): “Did we quit when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?”
Well, I’m not going to quit. F*ck that. One of the characteristics of the non-pussified man (and this should strike fear into the hearts of women and girly-men everywhere) is that he never quits just because the odds seem overwhelming. Omaha Beach, guys.
I want a real man as President—not Al Gore, who had to hire a consultant to show him how to be an Alpha male, and french-kiss his wife on live TV to “prove” to the world that he was a man, when we all knew that real men don’t have to do that shit.
And I want the Real Man President to surround himself with other Real Men, like Rumsfeld, and Ashcroft, and yes, Rice (who is more of a Real Man than those *sswipes Colin Powell and Norman Mineta).
I want our government to be more like Dad—kind, helpful, but not afraid to punish us when we f*ck up, instead of helping us excuse our actions.
I want our culture to become more male—and not the satirical kind of male, like The Man Show, or the cartoonish figures of Stallone, Van Damme or Schwartzenegger. (Note to the Hollywood execs: We absolutely f*cking loathe chick movies about feelings and relationships and all that feminine jive. We want more John Waynes, Robert Mitchums, Bruce Willises, and Clint Eastwoods. Never mind that it’s simplistic— we like simple, we are simple, we are men—our lives are uncomplicated, and we like it that way. We Were Soldiers was a great movie, and you know why? Because you could have cut out all the female parts, and it still would have been a great movie, because it was about Real Men. Try cutting out all the female parts in a Woody Allen movie—you’d end up with the opening and closing credits.)
I want our literature to become more male, less female. Men shouldn’t buy “self-help” books unless the subject matter is car maintenance, golf swing improvement or how to disassemble a f*cking Browning BAR. We don’t improve ourselves, we improve our stuff.
And finally, I want men everywhere to going back to being Real Men. To open doors for women, to drive fast cars, to smoke cigars after a meal, to get drunk occasionally and, in the words of Col. Jeff Cooper, one of the last of the Real Men: “to ride, shoot straight, and speak the truth.”
In every sense of the word. We know what the word “is” means.
Because that’s all that being a Real Man involves. You don’t have to become a f*cking cartoon male, either: I’m not going back to stoning women for adultery like those Muslim *ssholes do, nor am I suggesting we support that perversion of being a Real Man, gangsta rap artists (those f*cking p*ssies—they wouldn’t last thirty seconds against a couple of genuine tough guys that I know).
Only the strong men propagate.
And women know it. You want to know why I know this to be true? Because powerful men still attract women. Women, even liberal women, swooned over George Bush in a naval aviator’s uniform. Donald Trump still gets access to some of the most beautiful p*ssy available, despite looking like a medieval gargoyle. Donald Rumsfeld, if he wanted to, could f*ck 90% of all women over 50 if he wanted to, and a goodly portion of younger ones too.
And he won’t. Because Rummy’s been married to the same woman for fifty years, and he wouldn’t toss that away for a quickie. He’s a Real Man. No wonder the Euros hate and fear him.
We’d better get more like him, we’d better become more like him, because if we don’t, men will become a footnote to history.
I know that was incredibly long, but even as a woman, I loved it. I loved every word.
It is ridiculously hard to find real men today. I've dated every antithesis to the real man that exists. One guy was the biggest metrosexual I've ever encountered. He highlighted his short hair -- when he asked me to do it, he complained over and over again about how pulling strands with the tiny metal hook through the cap on his head hurt his scalp so badly. He took baths, in this gigantic tub, with bath beads, bath salts, bath bubbles. He'd light candles and play Enya. He liked to shop. Apparently, he watched Queer Eye for the Straight Guy a lot.
I've dated guys with no brains or spines of their own -- they just follow the crowd, doing whatever their friends will do, without ever giving a thought for themselves. I've dated guys that get mad when I don't cuddle at night, or get hurt when I don't want to go into deep discussions about our "feelings".
Are there honestly women out there that are attracted to these kinds of men?
My boyfriend is not one of those men (thank God). I am always shocked to find women attracted to men that take more than half an hour to get ready, or have to get all spruced up to go to the grocery store. I hated it when a guy I was dating wouldn't do anything -- or care -- when other guys hit on me right in front of him. I just wanted to shake reality into them! As Kim's wife noted, it could just be a look or a change in his stance -- but a real man won't just let it pass him by. You don't have to go beat the asshole down, but if someone's hitting on your woman right in front of you, do you really think you should just put up with it?
I don't want a man who doesn't know anything about sports, cars, and guns. I also don't want a man to sit there and blather on for hours about his "feelings" -- I'm the woman, not you, and that's my department (although any kind of smart woman will try to reserve those conversations for other women only). As much as I may joke about it, it isn't really exciting to hear about a man watching Sex and the City, or wanting to go see the latest Jennifer Lopez chick flick.
Men and women are different. If I wanted to date someone who was sensitive, emotional, stylish, cuddly, and always prepared to talk about "feelings", I'd be a lesbian and date a damn woman. I, and I'd be willing to say most women (real women, anyways), want a real man. When I get married, my husband will be the head of the household, because that's where he should be. It doesn't make my thoughts or opinions any less valid or worthwhile, but he should be the one running things. Ultimately, he's the one who should be in charge.
Real men understand honor, loyalty, camaraderie, duty, valour. They understand the difference between right and wrong, good and evil, and will stand up when needed to simply because it is what's right. They won't care about what the rest of the world thinks about it, because they know they're doing the right thing. Real men are honest, respectful, and loving, but that doesn't mean they aren't a little rough around the edges. They're respectful, and I'd be willing to bet don't want a doormat for a wife or girlfriend -- a strong man will want a strong woman who can understand him.
There's a reason men like Clint Eastwood and John Wayne have timeless appeal with men and women alike. It's because they're real men, men who do tough work, who get sweaty and dirty, who stand up for what's right, who can be menacing and hard, but kind and loving at the same time. They aren't ashamed of being men, most importantly.
We need more men in this country. I have a good feeling you could find a lot of these men in the military, and that's probably why so many women are attracted to the man-in-uniform bit. Soldiers, firefighters, police officers -- that the uniform is sexy is not because of the clothes. It's because of what that uniform represents, and what it signifies to us.
We should be encouraging boys to be boys, not trying to feminize them (sorry, Gloria Steinem). There's a shortage of real men in this country, and I'm lucky enough to have found one of them. We need to start encouraging men to be men again, though -- otherwise, we could end up with a bunch of European girly men... like, say, in France. And that's an ugly thought.
Hat Tip: Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler (and where the inspiration for this post based on a five-year-old essay came)